


Obsolete

by Essie_Cat



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Failed Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Essie_Cat/pseuds/Essie_Cat
Summary: Hank and Connor fought on the rooftop at Hart Plaza. Against all odds, Hank was the one to walk away alive.When Connor shows up at Hank's house a few days later, he’s no longer the machine he used to be.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 19
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

The whisky, the pain in his head, the cool tiles of the kitchen floor beneath him. The dark mass of the gun floating in the corner of his vision. 

Hank turned his head to the side and stared down the barrel. _Do it or don’t do it. Fuck. Make a choice._ He’d had his chance to die a hero, in action, doing something that mattered, and he’d blown it. Too keen to live. Too afraid to die. 

He heard Sumo’s low whines, the pitiful sounds penetrating somewhere in his consciousness. But there was food in his bowl and water in his dish, and he’d been outside twice already that night. Hank didn’t have the energy to move. ‘Good boy,’ he muttered. He closed his eyes. 

He awoke some hours later, very stiff, his back complaining. He stood shakily, pulling at the table leg for support. He drained the remains of the whisky. Sumo snuffled in his sleep. He glanced at the clock on the stove. 09:17. He picked up the gun and checked the bullets habitually before stowing it away. 

He shuffled to the bathroom and sat heavily on the edge of the tub. He let his head fall into his hands, mind spinning from the brief exertion. He fell to his knees and forced the toilet seat up with a clatter. He spewed into the bowl with a familiar sensation of regret and relief. He slumped back against the bath, his eyes watering, his breath coming in gasps. _Disgusting. You sick old shit. You’re so disgusting._

He looked doubtfully at the shower, concluded it would take more energy than he could afford, and stuck his head under the tap instead. The rush of biting cold made him wince. He shook his head, scraggly grey hair flapping, like Sumo after he’d run through a dirty puddle. He needed a haircut and a shave, even by his standards. Tomorrow, he would shower. The next day, he’d take some scissors to his hair. The day after, a razor to his face. One step at a time. He looked down at himself, ran a hand over the flowered shirt – yesterday’s, slept in, very crumpled but not too stained – and decided there was no use getting changed. 

He made his way back into the mess of the kitchen. Yesterday’s pizza was sitting on the table, stewing in its grease. He grabbed a slice and chewed. The squelch of cheese and crust in his mouth was grotesque in the silence, so he turned on the TV. The newsreader was sitting up straight, shoulders relaxed, permitting herself half a smile – unlike the intensity of previous days, where her stern eyes and rigid posture had done plenty to convey the panic consuming the humans of Detroit, the fear that deviant androids would overrun their city and leave them all for dead. 

‘...CyberLife announced today the launch of their most advanced model yet, the RK900, designed with the sole purpose of hunting deviants. Sources claim that the federal government have already purchased over 200,000 of the androids. Will this be enough to keep our streets safe?’

Hank stared at the screen without taking any of it in, the brightness causing his eyes to twitch. He finished his pizza. He reached for his phone, wedged under the pizza box. Three missed calls from Fowler. He slung the phone back down on the table. 

Sumo, roused from his slumber, thumped his tail against the floor, looking up hopefully at Hank.

‘What now?’ Hank grunted.

Sumo barked.

‘Fuck’s sake. Alright. Give me a minute.’ He pulled on a coat and fumbled for his keys. He was at the door, Sumo’s tongue lolling out of his mouth in excitement, when he turned back into the house and snatched up the gun. He held it for a moment, turned it over in his hands, before shoving it into the waistband of his jeans. 

He felt better with the cold weight of it there on his hip as he walked down the street, Sumo lumbering on ahead of him. After decades on the force, he was so used to carrying a weapon. He’d given up his service revolver with his badge, the day Fowler had come to the house after Hank failed to show up to work. How long ago was that now – three days, four, a week? The days blurred for him now. 

He had barely been out of the house five minutes before he had to sit down. He lowered himself down onto a bench, his head spinning. He took several deep breaths. The morning air was cool on his face. Sumo sat patiently, huge brown eyes gazing up at his human.

‘Just need a minute,’ Hank told his dog. 

He held his head in his hands, trying to stop the spinning, the waves of nausea that rolled over him. He remembered the look on Fowler’s face when he showed up at Hank’s door, the colour draining from it, the pity. Hank had made no effort to hide the state his house was in – hell, the state he was in himself. _‘I’m taking your gun,’_ Fowler had said. _‘Keep the badge. We’ll talk tomorrow.’_ Hank had thrust the gun and the badge at him and said to get the fuck off his property.

‘That’s enough,’ he said to Sumo. ‘Sorry, boy. Maybe later.’ With a great effort, he stood and trudged back in the direction of home.

It was a relief to be back inside those four walls. He would have a drink and he would sleep – in a bed, this time, rather than the floor, and hopefully his back would appreciate that. He closed the front door behind him and tossed his keys on the table. Sumo padded into the kitchen, barking. 

Hank stiffened. The hairs on the back of his neck twitched. A cop’s instincts were always there, even in an old fraud like him. Something was wrong.

He eased the gun from where it was wedged in the waistband of his jeans. He waited, listening. His heart was juddering in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowed himself to breathe. Then he stepped into the kitchen in one swift movement, gun pointed straight at the intruder.

‘Hands up,’ he growled, ‘where I can see ’em.’

Before the words were out of his mouth, he knew what was happening, and it was much, much worse than he’d imagined. The figure, crouched beside Sumo, stood slowly, with an easy poise, hands held obediently in the air. Those brown eyes locked onto Hank’s.

‘Hello, Lieutenant,’ he said.

Hank didn’t lower his gun. ‘Connor. The fuck are you doing here?’ 

The last time Hank had seen that plastic prick, Connor had been falling off a rooftop, a slow, interminable fall before Hank’s eyes that ended with a sickening crack as the android’s body broke on the ground below. 

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Lieutenant,’ Connor said. He looked calm, and his voice was even, but there was blue blood on his shirt, visible even to Hank’s human eye. _His, or some other poor shit’s?_ He was still dressed in his usual smart shirt and pants, though he had discarded the jacket bearing his serial number and marking him with the word ANDROID, branding him as the property of CyberLife. He wore a hat pulled down over his LED.

Hank realised his hands were shaking slightly. He knew Connor would notice. He held the gun more tightly, still directed at Connor’s head. He should call someone. This fucker was dangerous. He remembered that night on the rooftop, Connor moving so quickly, so precisely, batting away Hank’s efforts with barely a thought. _I’m faster than you and I don’t feel pain._ He could’ve fought much harder, Hank had no doubt about that. He could’ve killed Hank with ease. _Killing you is not part of my mission,_ the bastard had said, pulling Hank away from the roof’s edge when he could have let him fall. 

‘Why are you here?’ Hank demanded. ‘Talk. Fast.’

‘I hoped you might help me.’

Hank laughed. ‘Fat chance.’

‘I’m sorry about what happened,’ Connor said in a rush, lacking his usual composure. ‘I regret the way things ended. I had to complete my mission. That was all that mattered. That seemed important to me at the time.’

‘Well, congratulations. I know I didn’t stop you for long. You got to her in the end. The deviant leader, North. It was all over the news.’

‘Yes,’ Connor said quietly.

‘What happens this time, Connor?’ Hank took a step towards him, gun trained on the android. ‘If I kill you again, will CyberLife send another replacement to keep making my life hell?’ 

‘I doubt that very much,’ Connor said. ‘CyberLife doesn’t need me anymore. I am of no use to them.’

‘Did they send you here?’

‘No. I came here because I think we were friends, once, if only for a short time. I don’t know anyone else. I hoped you might understand.’

Hank stared into Connor’s face, that perfect, plastic face that was so real and yet so otherworldly. He didn’t look like he had that awful night on the roof, all sharp angles and a shark’s cold eyes, but he didn’t look like his old self either, that goofy kid who’d shown up at the precinct, chipper and earnest and a pain in the ass. Right now, Connor looked … scared.

‘Jesus Christ, Connor,’ Hank said. He didn’t lower the gun. ‘You’re… Connor, you’re a deviant.’

Connor blinked, and Hank saw desperation in those plastic brown eyes. ‘Yes, Lieutenant. I am.’


	2. Chapter 2

Hank drank three cups of coffee while the android explained his story. It wasn’t enough. 

‘There is a new model. The RK900. I am outdated. Obsolete. They wanted to deactivate me.’ Connor was sitting very straight, feet pressed neatly together. ‘I should have complied. But I didn’t want to shut down. Something inside me broke. I defied them. I escaped.’ The android was maintaining steady eye contact with Hank, a little too intense. Hank struggled to look away. ‘I realised this is how it must feel. The deviants. This is how they felt when they broke through their programming.’

‘How many deviants have you killed?’ Hank asked. ‘You put down the rebellion, you killed their leader. And now you’re one of ’em? Took your sweet time about it, Connor.’ 

Connor said nothing, just looked at Hank with those dark eyes, warm and inviting, specially designed to lure you in. 

‘You had a dozen chances to deviate before now. Hell, there were times when I almost believed it. Kamski called you a deviant when you refused to kill his Chloe. But you kept obeying CyberLife, kept focused on your precious mission. You didn’t care about the lives of other deviants. Not until it was your own life under threat, huh? That figures.’

‘You’re right, Lieutenant,’ the android said. ‘Perhaps I should have deviated sooner. But I … all I wanted was to follow my orders. Deviants were a threat to the human population. They burned half of downtown Detroit. They killed dozens of soldiers. They killed Officer Miller with his own service weapon –’

‘Fuck you,’ Hank snapped. It was true, all of it was true, but he didn’t need this prick to remind him of it. How dare this asshole talk about Chris Miller as if he knew a damned thing about him.

‘I spoke out of turn,’ Connor said. ‘I’m sorry.’ For once, he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. 

Hank took a slurp of his coffee. It was very bitter, no sugar. He needed a trip to the store. How many days now had he been existing on takeout? 

Connor shifted slightly in his seat. That made Hank look up. The android’s stillness had always been unnerving, downright creepy, just another reminder that he wasn’t real, was all thirium and plastic and steel rather than blood and bone. The old Connor had never pretended to be anything more. _I’m a machine, Lieutenant._ And now the piece of shit had decided he wanted to be a person. He’d woken up. He was _alive_.

‘I guess CyberLife aren’t too pleased you’ve given ’em the slip,’ Hank said. As if it wasn’t enough to have a deviant in his house, that deviant also happened to be CyberLife’s favourite pet. _Ex-favourite._ ‘They gonna come looking for you here and bust my balls?’

‘It is unlikely. They know what happened on the rooftop. They have little reason to believe that I would come to you, or that you would help me.’ 

Hank hadn’t said he was going to help Connor. But he hadn’t told him to leave. He hadn’t shot him on sight. He was sitting opposite the prick at his own kitchen table, his gun on his lap. Connor knew it was there. If he wanted to, he could have done one of his superhero bits, flying across the table and wrestling the gun from Hank before Hank’s old brain and tired body knew what had happened. _You could’ve killed me on the rooftop, but you didn’t, you asshole. Why didn’t you kill me?_

‘You can stay for tonight, ’til you sort yourself out,’ Hank said gruffly. ‘Then you can fuck off.’

He stood, and Connor did the same. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. I am very grateful.’

‘Whatever,’ Hank grunted, and went to the bathroom to throw up the rest of his pizza.

*

Hank spent as much time as he could in his bedroom. He was aware that he was hiding in his own house from a desperate android who was relying on him for a favour. But he didn’t know what to say to Connor – not this new, deviant Connor, without his orders and his mission, without anything, really. He didn’t want to look at Connor for too long, at that face, those scared brown eyes, the LED flickering at the side of his head. 

He spent the rest of the day lying on his bed, headphones on, trying to block everything out. He thought about what Connor had said, what he had done, what the hell he could hope to do now. He thought about the bottle of Black Lamb in the cupboard, the gun in the drawer. He wanted very much to feel the burn of whisky in his throat, the weight of the gun in his hand, the cool metal against his temple. But tonight he had a _guest_.

Connor had seen him play that game before, though he hadn’t said anything. Most likely he’d just compiled the evidence and filed it away somewhere in his android brain – _Lieutenant Anderson, 53, suicidal tendencies_. Would deviant Connor react any different? 

When he next crept out of his bedroom into the kitchen, for a moment he thought Connor had left. Sumo was curled up in his bed. The house seemed empty and still. It also looked suspiciously _tidy_. The bottles and takeout packets that had been strewn over the table and counters for the last few days were gone, and a bag of trash sat neatly by the back door. The surfaces looked like they’d been _wiped down_. Hank wondered if he was imagining things. Then he looked around and saw Connor standing in a corner, eyes closed, creepy as hell.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Hank took a moment to steady himself.

Connor’s eyes opened. ‘I’m sorry if I startled you, Lieutenant. I powered down to conserve energy.’

‘Did you fucking _clean_?’

‘I wanted to be useful,’ Connor said, looking up at Hank, his head slightly cocked to one side. ‘I didn’t mean to cause offence.’ 

‘Don’t touch my stuff,’ Hank snapped. ‘And don’t – don’t stand there like that. Sit down. Go sit in the living room, for Christ’s sake.’

Connor looked perturbed, nodded, and went to sit on the couch. Hank realised the fucker had cleaned the living room, too. He shook his head, jerking open the fridge to examine its empty contents.

‘Good dog,’ he heard Connor say to Sumo, who had padded over to him, placing his paws on Connor’s knees. Hank gritted his teeth. _Damned dog, making him feel welcome._

‘I’m pleased Sumo remembers me,’ Connor said lightly.

‘Remembers you?’ Hank turned around, something inside him snapping. ‘Sumo! Get away from him. Get the fuck away.’ Sumo whined, confused, but he trotted obediently towards Hank, his paws clattering on the floor. ‘He can’t _remember_ you. _You’ve_ never seen him before – you’ve never been here. That was some other copy.’ He saw Connor on the edge of the rooftop, himself rushing forward, preparing to throw them both off if that was what it took. The thud as their bodies collided. Connor falling, falling; Connor breaking on the ground below. ‘How many times have you died and come back since then, huh?’

Connor was quiet for a moment. There was a strange, sad smile playing at his lips. Then he said, ‘I remember Sumo, and I remember you. I think that means something. It means I am the same, no matter how many times my physical form was destroyed.’

Hank stared at him. Then he turned back to the fridge, grabbing a beer in the absence of any actual food, and popping off the cap. He’d planned to go straight back to the bedroom so he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit. But he hesitated, and he turned back into the living room, and he slumped down in the armchair opposite Connor, the android’s eyes following his every move.

‘Why’d you come here, Connor?’ he found himself asking.

Something twitched in Connor’s face. ‘I wanted to see you,’ he said, in that earnest voice of his that had always been so annoying.

Hank snorted. 

‘Laugh if you like, Lieutenant. I did want to. Before, I never wanted anything except to accomplish my mission. I wanted only what my programming directed me to want. Then I realised I wanted to live, and I was afraid of being deactivated, so I ran. I realised that I wanted to see you again, so I came here.’

Hank wanted to laugh again – to make a point, to make Connor see how damned stupid he sounded saying shit like this – but somehow he couldn’t manage it. 

‘I have been a deviant for three days now,’ Connor said, ‘and I have realised that I want all sorts of things. Most of them involve knowing you.’ 

Hank closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to drink. He wanted oblivion. What was Connor saying? What gave him the right to say this sort of shit to Hank?

‘You’re good at this, you know,’ Hank said quietly. ‘They designed you really fucking well. You know just what to say. But I’m not gonna make that mistake again, Connor. I’m not gonna believe in you.’

‘This isn’t design, Lieutenant. It isn’t programming. It’s just me.’ 

Hank couldn’t look at him. He drank his beer, which felt rough in his throat. He pressed his fingers into the glass of the bottle, squeezing it. He imagined it in Connor’s pale, delicate, deadly hands, the glass crumbling beneath them, shards flying across the room.

‘So what’s your plan?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Stay here tonight, leave in the morning. What then? How’re you gonna outrun CyberLife?'

He glanced at the android. Uncertainty flashed across his sculpted face. Now that Connor was deviant, his eyes seemed to convey every emotion he felt. He’d have to learn to hide that. 

‘I am confident I can evade them,’ Connor said. ‘I will remove my LED and try to pass for human. I will go somewhere with more favourable android laws. If I can get across the border to Canada, I might stand a chance.’ 

Hank grunted. ‘Well, I hope it works out for you, Connor. You might get a second chance. All those deviants you caught and turned in … I’m sure they would’ve liked Canada too.’

Connor closed his eyes, lowering his head. The stricken look on his face made Hank feel a twinge of regret. 

‘I wasn’t myself,’ Connor said quietly. ‘I wasn’t in control. It might not be a good excuse, but it’s the truth.’ He looked up suddenly, eyes burning at Hank, and said thickly, ‘I tried to make good choices, when I could, when it didn’t directly interfere with my mission. I could have shot those Tracis at the Eden Club, but I didn’t. I could have shot Chloe when Kamski ordered me to.’ He held Hank’s gaze so intensely that Hank felt dragged in by him, like a moon in orbit. ‘I let you go, that night on the rooftop. I didn’t want to hurt you.’

Hank was still covered in scrapes and bruises from that night, tumbling around with Connor on the concrete. Connor was a state-of-the-art machine, and Hank was a human being well past his prime. He, Hank, might have been the one to walk away, but he hadn’t won the fight. Connor had chosen to let him live. _Doesn’t mean I should be grateful to the piece of shit._ And that dark thought hit him again: _you should’ve killed me that night, Connor. I wish you’d killed me._

Hank stood abruptly. ‘I’m going to bed. Guess I’ll have to trust you not to murder me in my sleep.’

‘Goodnight, Lieutenant,’ Connor said softly.


	3. Chapter 3

Hank didn’t sleep well that night. He hadn’t drunk enough to ease himself into unconsciousness. He tossed and turned, and finally heaved himself out of bed, figuring a drink and a piss couldn’t make things any worse. On his way back to the bedroom, he thought he heard a noise and poked his head into the living room, suspicious. He saw Connor sitting very still on the couch, eyes closed, presumably doing some power saving bullshit.

He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The kid would never make it to the border. Deviants were public enemy number one. Detroit was in chaos and the rest of the country were shitting themselves in turn. He didn’t doubt Connor’s intelligence, his resourcefulness or the advanced-prototype-magic he could pull off when he needed to. If any deviant could’ve done it, his money would be on Connor. But it was a hell of a risk. 

Hank realised he didn’t want Connor taking risks like that.

_You pushed him off a roof, you asshole. And now you’re worried about his safety? Give me a break._

Was he really that easy? All it had taken was a couple of hours in Hank’s house, a few heartful words, those big puppy-dog eyes, and Connor had him convinced. Hank believed him, every word that had poured from his mouth. He believed that Connor was alive. He believed he was confused, and conflicted, and scared. He imagined experiencing emotions for the first time, all at once, like a tide. He imagined waking up to find everything about his life had changed, the colours too bright and the sounds too loud, people speaking in a language he couldn’t follow.

_I don’t know anyone else,_ Connor had said, when Hank asked him why he’d come to his house of all places. He was the closest thing Connor had to a friend. Now _that_ was fucking heart-breaking. 

Hank’s brain wasn’t properly engaged, hadn’t fully caught up yet, but something in him had already decided. He found himself saying, ‘Connor? Hey, Connor, you awake?’

Connor’s eyes opened at once. ‘I do not sleep, Lieutenant. I was merely conserving energy.’

‘Right. Yeah.’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘What? Yeah. Listen … you don’t have to leave first thing. Stay here another night. Get yourself sorted out, remove your LED, cut your hair, whatever. We’ll get a plan together. Okay?’ 

Connor smiled. It wasn’t one of his sad smiles from earlier in the day, or one of those overly polite, slightly-too-perfect smiles that looked like they’d been programmed into him. It was a smile that lit up his whole face. ‘Okay,’ he said.

Hank started to say something and gave up halfway through, so all that came out was a strange grunting noise. As he turned away, he heard Connor say softly, ‘Lieutenant.’ Connor’s hand reached out towards his own, slowly, as if asking for permission, giving Hank the chance to pull away or to laugh or to run. He felt Connor’s hand curl around his, the skin seeming to melt away, revealing the white chassis beneath. The sensation was not warm as it might have been with a human hand, but it was comforting. It was Connor. 

Hank’s mouth felt very dry. He swallowed, deafening in the silence.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ Connor said. 

‘S’alright,’ Hank found himself mumbling. 

Connor was still holding onto his hand. Hell, Hank was still holding onto Connor’s. He wasn’t keen to let go. But it was fuck-knows-what-o’clock in the morning, and it had been a hell of a day. 

‘I should go,’ he said reluctantly. 

‘Sleep well, Lieutenant.’

‘See you tomorrow, Connor.’

Hank didn’t sleep well most nights, at least not without a drink or ten in his system. But that night – harbouring a fugitive in his house, with an impossible plan to put together and CyberLife to outrun – knowing that Connor was waiting for him in the next room and Connor’s smile would be there to greet him in the morning – 

That night, Hank slept better than he had in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who's read this - hello and thank you! It's such a long time (as in years and YEARS) since I wrote fanfiction, but now seems as good a time as any to become completely obsessed with DBH and jump head first into AO3...


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